Matriarchal Structure

A poem about "The Man" I guess.

“Choose your battles,”
they say.

“Then I battle you,”
I tell them.

And they laugh,
the wicked cackle
that shreds the soul,
and leaves all
in earshot
weeping.

“Do you not believe me?”
I ask

“We have seen many
such as you.
Each one
no more than a mosquito
on our palm,”
they respond.

“Then if I cannot
suck the blood
from your body
until you are
shriveled and dead,
I will infect you
with a malaria of
poetry.
Words that will
discolor your skin,
turn your stomach,
empty your bowels,
cover your eyes,
and deafen your ears.
And when you lie
dying in the dirt,
I will be there
to remove the last drops
of good blood
from your body.”

“You cannot kill us.
You rely on our blood
to stay alive.
Without us
you die,”
They tell me.

So the question is:
is your life
to high a cost
to defeat your enemy?

I say,
“No.”